


The Feast of St Thomas

by AutumnDreams



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar 2013, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnDreams/pseuds/AutumnDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If she, the spinster, follows the instructions perfectly, she'll dream of the man she's destine to marry." Lying the parchment on the bed, she tucks her hands under the cushion and closes her eyes, settling in for the night. "Well, it doesn't hurt anything to try, does it?" - Day 1 of 25 - if there was a silly fluff category, this would fit into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feast of St Thomas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosetintedblindspot](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rosetintedblindspot).



> Stupid, silly one shot to begin the holiday season for our favorite couple. The tradition within this was found within a holiday movie on the Hallmark Channel so I can't take credit for that. I apologize now for the stupidity and silliness as well as any mistakes; this is completely unbeta'd, written without change, and part of a large collection of stories I've thrown together that I'm hoping to share this holiday season - if the want is there.
> 
> Special thanks goes out to rosetintedblindspot for yet again being there through my ups and downs, and for encouraging me to tackle this challenge. Should I fail - she's promised to kidnap me and lock me in a room where all I can do is watch Peter's movies/television roles and eat chocolate.

"Who really believes in these silly traditions, anyway?"

It's said as a whisper, more to herself than anything, and yet, for a moment, she looks between the parchment clutched in her hand to her cold, darkened bedroom.

"A way to make us old spinsters feel less alone on the holidays - to give us hope." She's quiet a moment, looking at the story again before laughing. "And I'm sitting here arguing with myself about it."

"Meow."

Eyes lifting, she sees the gray cat lying in the middle of her bed, head lifted to study her.

"Meow."

"You think I'm being stupid too, don't you?" She asks the cat, eyes twinkling. "So do I. But it really doesn't hurt anything to try it, does it?"

Loose green flannel pajamas hanging from her frame, Ruth gives the cat one final look before beginning to read the directions out loud.

"Alright, step one - take a step stool and climb into bed." Turning, she looks around the lived in room. "Step stool. What can I use as a...aha!" Lying the parchment on the bed, she crosses to the built-in bookshelves; and using both hands; pulls the single bound addition of " _À la recherche du temps perdu_ ". Carrying it back to her bed, she sets it on the floor before taking the parchment back, stepping onto the leather bound book, and climbing onto the bed.

"Next, standing on the bed, remove your shoes." Standing on her right leg, she reaches for the left slipper, laughing as she falls and bounces on the mattress.

"I'm sorry Fidget!" she says, laughter still filling her voice as the cat jumps from the bed and runs from the room.

Pushing herself up, she unsteadily pulls her remaining slipper off. Clutching them in her left hand, she looks to the parchment again. "Spin 3 times."

Eyes closed, she turns once, twice, three times, laughing more with each twist. Stumbling a little, she catches herself, eyes opening as she looks to the list again. "And throw your shoes at the door."

Thump. Thump.

Each land on the wooden planks, her eyes alight with amusement as she continues down the list.

"Sleep with your feet on the pillows at the head of the bed."

Looking from the list to her bed, she shrugs her shoulders, laughing as she jumps in the air and comes to land on the mattress. Reaching for a cushion, she places it at the foot of the bed before lying down, her feet coming to rest atop the feather pillows. Grabbing a throw, she tucks it around herself before turning to her side and reading the last part.

"If she, the spinster, follows the instructions perfectly, she'll dream of the man she's destine to marry." Lying the parchment on the bed, she tucks her hands under the cushion and closes her eyes, settling in for the night. "Well, it doesn't hurt anything to try, does it?"

* * *

_The lights are dimmed, barely lighting the vast space that is the Grid. Sat at her desk, Ruth chews on her lower lip, eyes focused on the large window. The blinds are closed, something that of late has not been the norm, and she wonders not for the first time if the figure within is alright. He's distraught, having just lost the second of their family to death this past year, and she knows he's probably done nothing but sat at his desk, decanter of whisky his only solace. She wants to go to him - to offer comfort and support - but she's still not sure how welcome her presence would be._

_'Go to him' a voice inside her whispers. 'He needs you just as much as you need him.'_

_For once, she doesn't over analyze, just pushes her chair back and stands. Crossing to the closed door, she raises her hand and knocks._

* * *

Sitting up, Ruth feels her hair fly forward as she glances around her semi-lit room. "Oh God, it can't be." Eyes drifting to the parchment, she picks it up and reads the last line again. "She'll dream of the man she's destine to marry. No. Fidget. It can't be. He'd never even give me a second glance. I'm not glamorous enough to be his type. Not even for a quick roll in the hay."

"Meow." Standing, the cat crosses to her, his head bumping into her arm as he rubs against her.

"I know, it's just a silly old tradition." Reaching out, she scratches the top of Fidget's head, smiling as he purrs and flops to his side. "And no one's died anyway, let alone two people."

The two are startled from their contented loving by a soft knock at the front door. Frowning, Ruth pushes herself from the bed, seeking her slippers from where she tossed them earlier as another knock is heard at the door. Slipping her feet in them, she pads quietly down the stairs, her hand reaching out to flick the hall light on as she passes the switch. Reaching the bottom, she crosses to the glass door, a frown forming on her face as she recognizes the bulky figure on the other side.

"Harry." she says as she opens the door, a burst of frigid air causing her to shiver. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You should never answer the door without checking who it is first." he chides, small smile on his face as he stands on her front stoop.

He's still dressed in his work suit if the black trousers under his winter jacket are anything to go by. Collar turned up, he has a red and green plaid scarf around his neck and black leather gloves on his hands. Leaning against the wooden door, she smiles at him, suddenly wishing she was wearing anything but her warmest, softest pajamas.

"I knew it was you." she says softly, eyes lifting to meet his sparkling ones. "Even if it is unusual for you to be calling at..." she pauses, head turning to look at the clock on the hall wall. "quarter to twelve at night."

"Yes, well, you should still ask who it is." he whispers, stepping closer. "May I come in?"

"Ooo...of course." Stepping back, she moves so he can step into the small entry way. Closing the door, she turns and finds him standing behind her, his large frame close.

Eyes alight, he watches her as his hand goes into his pocket. Hair pulled back from her face, the crease of a pillow on her cheek, and large green flannel hanging from her petit frame, he doesn't think he's ever seen her look more beautiful. The soft look in her eyes does more to sooth his nerves than the glass of whisky he had before coming over.

"Is everything alright?" she asks softly, eyes locking on his. "I don't remember hearing my phone."

"It's uh...it's fine." Clearing his throat, he takes a step closer as he pulls a small, square package from his pocket. "You..." coughing, he pauses a moment before continuing. "You left the Grid without your Secret Santa gift."

"But I got it." Confusion filling her, she looks from his face to the package he's holding to the upstairs hall. "It's up in my bed now."

"What?" Himself now confused, Harry looks from her to the box to the coat rack. Spotting what he can assumes to be a man's all weather coat, the feeling of joy he'd been feeling flees. "Oh. I see." he whispers, slowly lowering the package as he realizes how wrong he'd been. "I..I'll just go then."

Surprised at the quick change in his demur, Ruth reaches out for the box, her fingers wrapping around it to brush his. "No!" Blushing, she squeezes his hand. "Whatever it is your thinking..."

"I shouldn't have come. Of course you have company. A beautiful, intelligent woman like yourself." Forcing a smile onto his face, Harry tries to extract his hand from hers. "Forget I've been here."

"Company? What are you talking about?" Eyes following his to the rack, she swore softly before gripping his hand tighter. "No! It's not that. I mean, there's no man - or woman - upstairs."

"But you said..."

"It's a parchment." Laughing, she maneuvers the box free. "For all the old spinsters of the world. It had my name on it. At the Grid. I just assumed..." Looking from him, she undoes the latch of the box.

"Wait." Shaking himself free from the vast amount of confusion he's felt since arriving, Harry covers her hand with his. "It's...I just...what parchment?"

Ignoring him, she pulls her hand free and opens the box. Gasping at the silver heart pendant inside, she lifts her eyes to his, her fingers clutching the box tightly. "Harry?"

"I love you." He says it clearly, without hesitance, but full of nerves. Seeing her look of shock, he takes a chance, hand lifting to brush against her cheek. "I know it's out there. We've not even gone on a date. But...I...I've just found...I..."

Lifting her hand, Ruth lies her finger against his mouth. As he quiets, she smiles, wondering if she's possibly still dreaming, but for once, decides it doesn't matter. Taking a chance, she stands on her tiptoes and presses her mouth against his, smiling as his arm wraps round her waist to hold her close.

As they break apart, Harry lets his forehead rest against hers, smiling as her warm breath caresses his face. "Merry Christmas Ruth."

"Merry Christmas Harry." Grinning, she slides her hand to his cheek, pulling him closer. As her lips brush his, she quietly whispers "I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> I think this could be classified as pointless fluff but that's alright, it's Christmas and it's allowed, especially after my last one shot. If you've a moment, please leave a review. They're my addiction and will result in another small one shot tomorrow, December 2nd.


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